


When Desperate Times Do Not Call for Desperate Measures

by JewelQueen



Series: A Drabble A Day! [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Don't Judge Me, I Don't Even Know, Light Dom/sub, Multi, Not Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase Two Compliant, Omorashi, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Pre-Poly, Tony-centric, ambiguous timeline, some watersports
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 02:39:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10822029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JewelQueen/pseuds/JewelQueen
Summary: Tony did not mean to piss Loki off, but he somehow did because there was no other explanation for this...this. What is he staring at?“For all intents and purposes, sir, it is a magical replication of your bladder in real time.”Yeah, like that's not gonna have any weird consequences.





	When Desperate Times Do Not Call for Desperate Measures

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am, writing yet another fic when I should be studying. *And* I told myself I would never write this kink, but I couldn't help myself after reading "voodoo bladder." *Sigh* Treat me gently, lovelies, I'm new.

It was all Loki’s fault, Tony mused, sipping barely warm coffee as he warily circled the unassuming floating clear bag. It was surrounded by the faintest tinge of green--remnants of Loki’s magic--hovering in place, shaped almost like a 6-inch heart. He swallowed and watched with narrowed eyes as a delay of about four seconds caused a few drops to drip in the magic bag and pool at the pointed bottom.

“Jarvis?” he asked.

“For all intents and purposes, sir, it is a magical replication of your bladder in real time.”

He scowled, not what he wanted to hear, and tried to poke it with a pen. It phased right through, through he felt a psychosomatic twinge in his gut. Anything he tried to destroy it or otherwise affect it, even when using weapons and not directly touching it himself, and it acted as if it was a hologram. Scans revealed nothing other than that Loki was involved, i.e. it was magical in origin.

“Having fun?” Loki’s drawl interrupted, causing him to jerk in surprise. They both watched as his “bladder” sloshed the liquid inside at the motion--which felt weirdly invasive.

“Get rid of it,” was all he said. For a prank, this had gone on long enough, especially when he had no clue as to why he was being pranked. For the whole “performance issues” thing? So last year, and also, the defenestration sort of balanced that out.

Loki’s smirk grew. “Surely you don’t want to part with it yet. I gave you a week, and it’s barely been a day,”

“Don’t care, it’s annoying, and I want it gone,” he growled, irritated with every aspect of Loki and his godforsaken magic. If it weren't likely to get him killed, he’d have put on his gauntlet and blast a repulsor beam in his smug face.

Loki snapped his fingers, and it disappeared. He tried not to visibly show his relief. “There, as you wish, it is no longer here. I am a god of my word, Stark, have no fear,” And then he was gone.

“Jarvis, do a quick scan for any trace of Loki’s signature in the tower,” he ordered. It was only until he ran it three times, each negative, that he allowed himself to relax fully.

Of course, it was only until the next morning that he realized Loki promised him something else. He woke up with an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, which he proceeded to ignore until he got a decent cup of coffee in his system.

He hadn’t needed the caffeine to wake him up when he walked in the kitchen, it turns out, because adrenaline works just fine, thank you very much.

The magical bag was back, chilling a few inches above the counter, with Steve prodding it ever so cautiously. He grimaced as he felt a ghostly touch in his gut, but rubbed at the spot and decided to pretend nothing was amiss as he went for his usual cup. That’ll show Loki.

“Mornin’ Steve,” he greeted, going straight for the cupboards and selecting his favorite mug, purposefully not glancing at anything else. It wouldn’t be too unusual for him since he tended to have tunnel-vision when he woke up anyway.

“Good morning, you’re up a little early,” Steve responded, thankfully distracted from his inspection momentarily.

“Yeah, I, uh, couldn’t sleep. Stomach ache,” he said, realizing that technically it was true. If Steve had been poking the bag all this time, his real bladder must have been pretty sore.

The truth had the added benefit of distracting Steve further, drawing him away from the floating bag with a frown. “You okay?”

“Yeah, peachy,” he said, with a careless wave taking his freshly filled mug to his mouth. “I’m just, gonna take it easy today in the labs. So, uh, don’t be concerned if you don’t see much of me,”

Steve watched him take a sip, checking him for signs of distress. Tony had a clear view of the bag filling behind him, and his eye twitched. “If you’re sure,” he said hesitantly.

“No, I’m sure, very sure, see ya,” he said, fast-walking as much as possible without seeming suspicious until he was out of sight. Then he just bolted into his lab.

“Jay, do me a favor and watch my fluid intake levels. Don’t let them rise above...however much it takes to fill up a bladder without warning,” he asked, putting down his mug with a sigh.

“Of course, sir. If you could stand as still as possible for biometric readings…?” JARVIS answered, scanning him from head to toe, with some extra time spent in his pelvic region. “Done, sir. By my estimation, you can safely hit the 350-milliliter mark before you may feel some urging,”

“What’s the, uh, general length of time before it reaches that point?” he asked, feeling a little silly.

“I cannot calculate with accuracy your specific timeframe within the currently given results. Google appears to estimate 10 hours,”

Tony exhaled in relief. “That’s manageable. We’ll work on generating the results you need for my specifications some other time, throw up something that’ll distract me,”

JARVIS threw up some old blueprints for modifications to his suit that he previously discarded because they were taking too much time to be feasible. Even if he got nothing out of it, the puzzle was probably the best choice if he wanted to get absorbed into his work so he could ignore the fact that, somewhere out there, Steve could be very literally playing with his bladder. At least while he was down here, hidden away, no one would make the connection because they wouldn’t be able to see his reaction. And, loath as he was to even consider it in passing, if Steve pressed too hard in his inspection, no one would know. Aside from JARVIS and his bots, but they’d never tell anyway.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but he started to get very conscious of a throbbing yanking him out of his headspace. He let one hand drift south to rub away the ache. “Jay? What’s my reading?”

“Approximately 289 milliliters, sir. It has been 9 hours and 36 minutes,” JARVIS answered dutifully. He frowned. He didn’t think that was enough to feel so...aware of his needs. “Might I suggest a break, sir, to refresh yourself?”

“Yeah, sure, good idea,” he muttered, rubbing one last time before he got up to stretch. “Save my progress; I might want to come back to this,”

“Of course, sir,”

He went up to the kitchen to fix himself a sandwich and, after a moment of hesitation, a larger glass of water than usual. Hey, if he was going to use the bathroom after all this, might as well flush the system completely. He chugged about half of the glass right away, more thirsty than he expected he’d be, before demolishing his sandwich. And, obviously, that’s when Steve showed up, magical bag floating above his shoulder. He choked on his last mouthful, trying not to be too obvious about eyeing his...fluid levels. About three-quarters, that should be good, right?

“Yeah, I know, it’s weird. Do you have any idea what it is?”

“Huh?” he asked, glancing away from it. Steve grabbed it and positioned it between the both of them and Tony tried very hard not to squirm. God, that felt so _weird_. It was like Steve’s hands were inside of him, warm and gentle, and fuck, that wasn’t helping.

“I asked everyone else, but no one seems to know what it is--other than magic,” Steve rephrased.

“Um, yeah, seems about right. I don’t know any bags that float normally,” he said, wishing he hadn’t eaten all of his sandwich. There was nothing left for his hands to play with and drinking more water was not going to go well.

“Bruce said it reminds him of a bladder, especially because it has been slowly filling with something all day,” Steve mused. Tony’s mouth went dry.

“Well, if Brucie said so, I’m inclined to believe him,” he said, shrugging. “Biology isn’t my area of expertise, and neither is magic. Can’t really help you, Cap,”

He started to slide off his chair, making sure to keep his movements steady and not rock around liquid where Steve could see. Steve reached out to grab his arm. “Hey, wait, before you slink away--”

“I do not _slink_!”

“--to your lab or whatever, did you want to join us for a movie?”

“Stevie, I--” he started, wriggling in his grip slightly.

“Please, Tony? It’s been awhile since you joined us,” he pleaded, puppy eyes coming out.

He sighed. “Alright, fine, put those bad boys away, just let me--”

“Great!” Steve grinned, all but picking him up and carrying him into the living room where everything was basically set up. Huffing, he collapsed into a corner seat and crossed his arms. It wasn’t like he was desperate, he could handle two more hours, one if he absolutely couldn’t hang on. Lots of people barely made it halfway before a bathroom break. He could do this.

Clint tossed him a bag of popcorn, and he dug into that, trying to forget the fact that JARVIS gave him an estimate of ten hours.

He guessed they were about halfway through when all the popcorn was gone and now he was debating whether or not it would be worth it to drink something after all the salt he consumed. Aside from some restless leg-jiggling and an ever-present awareness, he was holding out okay. His mouth, on the other hand, was getting to be the more annoying of the two. He ran his tongue over his sticky teeth and was just about to ask Clint to pass him something to drink, as he was scheduled to be the snacks provider for the night when he felt a pinching sensation.

He bit down on his lip to stop himself from making a noise, hand automatically going to his stomach, before looking around for his ghostly bladder. Steve was fumbling around for something, and it was caught between his shoulder and the couch. Okay, alright, he exhaled slowly, he can handle this. It wasn’t that bad--

Oh god, Steve was pressing further against it. He hunched over slightly, using one hand to cover his mouth and muffle the whimper he couldn’t contain. His real bladder was throbbing almost painfully, and it was getting difficult to suppress the urge to grab at his crotch. When Steve finally let up, fake bladder rising free, it was like he could breathe again. Carefully, he dropped his hand from his mouth and exhaled, keeping his curled posture and wincing when he noticed just how full he was. He wasn’t going to last the whole movie, not like this. But after closing his eyes and thinking of the right-amount-of-sexy thoughts, the pressure decreased enough to be only mildly uncomfortable.

Absently, because his mind hated him, he wondered if it would be better or worse if they were watching a horror movie. Pros: his shiftiness would be excusable and less noticeable. Cons: he’d get teased for being a wimp, and there was a very obvious bad reason he wasn’t going to touch. But this was okay; he was desperate for a drink, or at least something to wash his mouth with, and less desperate for a bathroom. He could get through this, and then Steve would be happy that he participated in team bonding 100%. Maybe he could convince the Captain to give him a gold star sticker.

Maybe he shouldn’t think about golden things. Movie, watch the damn movie. His leg picked up the jiggling because he couldn’t focus, his bladder felt like it took up his entire stomach. Did bladders actually distend? Now wasn’t a good time to be concerned. Natasha was already looking like she wanted to spill his guts with all his moving around. What if--

He squeaked, slamming his thighs tight against one another and trying not to check his crotch obviously because that was most certainly a leak. Not very much, thankfully, he sent a glare towards Steve who must have accidentally punched his fake bladder when rotating his shoulder. He should probably come up with an excuse and make a run for it because this was not going to end well.

“You alright?” Natasha whispered in his ear.

He jumped, cursing and flushing when he felt another spurt come through, entirely his own fault. He curled his hands into fists on top of his thighs. “‘M fine,” he gritted out because no way in hell would he admit this to anyone, but least of all her.

“Tony? Stomach still bothering you?” Oh, bless Steve’s patriotic heart with his super-hearing.

“Yeah, uh, actually, I think I’m going to call it an early night. Have fun,” he chirped too brightly, knowing Natasha’s suspicious eyes were following him as he tried to walk naturally without giving away the small dark spot on his jeans. Luckily, the room was pretty dark, to begin with.

A chorus of “good night”s and “feel better”s followed him into the elevator. Once the doors shut, he doubled over and squeezed his cock just to be on the safe side with a groan.

“Sir?” JARVIS questioned.

“Just...take me to my floor as fast as you can, Jay,” he said, trying to keep his breathing even. “I, uh, I think I have an idea about what Loki’s plan is,”

“Yes, sir, I believe I have the same thought,”

“Then, uh,” he cleared his throat, as the doors opened. “We might have to work on those measurements of mine sooner rather than later,”

He all but stumbled out, knees feeling weak under the strain, but made it to the bathroom no worse for wear and had the best god-damn piss of his life.

* * *

 

As luck would have it, Natasha was the one who had his mystical balloon followed the next day. Though, he successfully hid away until she came knocking on his door, literally, around noon. She bribed him with a coffee and a lemon poppyseed muffin, his favorite, so she was allowed in.

“So,” he said, keeping his tone casual as he bit into the muffin. “You guys just trading the magic ball around for fun?”

Her grin widened, and she shrugged. “Steve woke up with it yesterday; I woke up with it today. Don’t be jealous; I’m sure it’ll come to you eventually,”

“Uh huh,” he said. “Whatcha drop by for?”

“Finish your breakfast. Then we spar,”

“O-kay, but why?” he asked, peering at her for a sign that he knew she’d never let him see.

“Your hand-to-hand is awful, and I’m bored,” she said, which, honestly, is probably the most truthful answer he was going to get.

“I’m gonna need a better bribe next time,” is all he said. Declining would be too suspicious, plus he could use the extra help, and she didn’t offer it much because her patience was so little with him.

He regretted everything after the sixteenth time he was flipped onto his back on the mat. Grunting, he glanced at his magic bladder, wincing at how full it was though not surprised. It was starting to feel like a stone down there and being slammed into the ground wasn’t helping, and Natasha was a strict hydration-ist when she exercised, which meant so was he.

“Again,” she called, not even panting.

“Uh, can I get a timeout?” he asked, getting to his feet very slowly.

“No,” she said, voice low. “There’s no breaks out in the field. Assume the position,”

He sighed and swallowed his pride. “Nat, can I _please_ have a break? I promise I’ll only be a minute, and then you can be back to slave-driving me to my death,”

She paused, stance relaxing as she straightened up. “Jarvis, blackout protocols,” she said, and that was his only warning before he was pinned to the mat again. This time, her hands were over his wrists, and her knee pushed his thighs apart. His eyes flickered up to his floating bladder, and he saw her smirk grow out of the corner of his eye.

“You know, after your little scene, I thought that was what was going on,” she began, her voice any other time deep and seductive. He squirmed futilely and gasped when her knee pressed closer to his groin. “Did you even make it to the bathroom last night?”

“Yes,” he bit out.

“Hmm. But you had a little accident didn’t you?” she whispered, eyes gleaming.

He flushed at the reminder and tried to press his thighs as close together as she would allow. This position wasn’t doing him any favors. “So what if I did?”

Her teeth nipped at his ear, and he sucked in a breath, going very still. “I liked watching you squirm Tony. I want to see it again,”

“Jarvis,” he called out, voice strangled. “Cancel blackout--”

Somehow Natasha maneuvered her way to hovering just over his hips, the threat of pressure cutting him off even as he was still firmly pinned on the ground. “Do you want people to come in and watch you piss yourself like a helpless baby, Tony?” she asked, tone deceptively light for the filthy way she spoke. He felt his face get even darker. “I’m not letting you up until you make a pretty sight for me,”

“Nat, _please_ ,” he choked, bladder protesting the arrangement loudly. This was even worse than last night. “I don’t-please don’t make me,”

Her grip on his wrists lessened as she shifted forward. He whined eyes squeezed shut, as her motions sent little shock waves down his spine. He was rapidly losing control. “Anthony, look at me,” she commanded, no longer playful. He peeked at her reluctantly. “Say ‘no,’ and I’ll stop. But I don’t think you want me to stop, do you?”

Tears pricked at the corners of his vision, face unbearably hot as he shook his head slightly. Her smile was soft, and she let go of one wrist to pet his head. “I thought so, baby. It’s okay. Are you going to be a good boy if I get up?”

His breath hitched, and he trembled underneath her. “Do you want me to keep you pinned down?”

He bit his lip and nodded jerkily. “Can you--before?” he asked, weakly. Her smile brightened, and his stomach felt less twisted up.

“Like this, sweetheart?” she asked, knee separating his shaking thighs again, hands still pinned at his head. He nodded. “Good. How long do you think you can last?”

“Dunno,” he mumbled, squirming heavily. His cock twitched at her lusty grin. “Not much?”

“How about five minutes, do you think you can try to hold on for five minutes, baby?” He shrugged again and then nodded.

“I can try,” he whispered. She cooed at him, muttering soft praises and laughing as his blush came back.

“You’re being such a good boy for me,” she continued. “But I want to see you control yourself for a minute, no wiggling. Can you do that for me, baby?”

Tony took a deep breath and forced himself to stay still. Immediately it was a bad idea because everything just felt like more. He whimpered, sure that he was going to piss himself any moment now, his bladder was so heavy, and the lack of motion was now revealing just how full he was.

After about thirty seconds, he broke and squirmed desperately, clenching his thighs against hers to feel like he was stopping the dam. Natasha tsked, pushing his thighs back open, spreading them further out this time and he couldn’t prevent a spurt from coming and dampening his boxers. Natasha must have read something in his expression because her eyes widened.

“Did you have a little accident, малыш?” she asked, a little breathy. He squirmed more instead of answering her. “It’s okay; you’re doing so well. I’m so proud. Just another couple of minutes,”

He nodded and closed his eyes, trying to focus on anything other than his desperate need to pee. It was hard, especially after a little already came out and felt so nice to have released. But Natasha’s words felt even better, and something buried deep inside of him didn’t want to disappoint her. He counted his breaths, feeling her edge her knee right into his crotch, and her touch made him jerk, reflexively letting out another spurt. This time, it definitely dampened his workout pants. Her gasp confirmed that she could either see or feel it.

She switched so one hand held down both of his wrists and the other rested on his stomach. He snapped his eyes open. “Don’t!” he said, chest heaving. “I-I can’t!”

“Shh, малыш,” she replied. “Be a good boy and hold on,” She started rubbing circles, which, while pulling a strangled moan out of him, wasn’t too bad. But then she _pressed_ \--

He cried out as a full on stream came out, hissing through his clothes straight onto the mat beneath him and wetting her knee as well, for several seconds before he was able to stop. God, it felt so good and warm. “Nat, Nat, Nat,” he begged, not sure what for.

“One more minute, малыш,” she chanted, eyes glued to the spreading wet shine over their clothes. “Just one more, you’re doing so well,”

He groaned, arching up off the mat in a desperate move to hold on. “I can’t, I _can’t_! Please, Nat,”

She took her hand off of his stomach, but it wasn’t the right kind of relief, and he whined again. Her eyes met his, and he inhaled hopefully, a plea on his dark lips. She grinned. “Okay, малыш, be a good boy and piss for me,”

Tony actually cried in relief, sagging against the mat, face turned to the side as he released all control. He lost himself in the feeling, utter pleasure flooding his senses as the warmth spread down his legs seemingly forever. He could barely hear Natasha babbling in Russian and broken English over the loud hiss. A bone-deep satisfaction overtook him, and he shivered.

He lied. _This_ was the best god-damn piss of his life. Nothing could ever top this.

Eventually, his stream slowed to nothing and he almost wished there was more in him to push out just for the sake of prolonging this high. He was so blissed out, lying there, panting as he tried to recover.

“Tony?” Natasha called, sounding far away. Which was weird because he could feel how close she was. He made some kind of noise, and he could hear her chuckle. “Did you drop on me, baby?”

He scrunched up his face, no clue what she was talking about. “Oh, Antosha, come on, малыш, up, we need to get you cleaned,”

Suddenly he was vertical, and he whined. “Needy little thing you are,” she laughed in his ear. “You did very good, baby, I’m so proud of you, but I need you to help me get you in the shower,”

“Don’ wanna,” he complained, trying to nuzzle into her neck. “Hate water,”

“I know, малыш,” she said, softer this time and petting his hair. He liked that. “Will it be okay if I shower with you?”

“Please?”

Which is how he came to with Natasha scritching his head under the shower with them both naked. He jerked immediately out of the spray, then flushed, uncomfortably shifting in front of her. “Uh, I don’t know how to proceed here. That’s never--I’ve never done...that,”

“I figured,” she grinned. “Finish up in here; I’ll go clean up the mess. You did very well, малыш, I’m proud of you,” She kissed him on the cheek, before stepping out of the shower, wrapping one towel around her and grabbing another for clean-up.

Fuck, that actually happened. He pissed himself in front of Nat. He pissed himself _on command_ , in the middle of his gym, in front of Nat and he liked it. He is all kinds of fucked up.

Shaking himself out of it, he finished soaping the rest of him, trying not to blush further as he paid particular attention to certain parts of his body, and grabbed his own towel to dry off. His shirt was fine, no stains on that, but his pants…

“Here,” Natasha said, sneaking up on him with a fresh pair of sweats in her hand. “I brought extra, just in case,”

“Yeah, uh, thanks,” he said lamely, slipping them on in front of her. Technically, they’ve already done worse things in front of each other. “Do we, um, are you--?”

“Don’t hurt yourself, genius,” she said warmly. “I’m not gonna tell, and it was a one-time thing. Now, go hide away in your lab like you so desperately want, but take it easy. You dropped into subspace a little, so you might feel a little off,”

“I’m always a little off,” he responded, but he did feel a little lightheaded.

“Jarvis can take care of you, then,” She paused. “Thank you, Tony,” Then, she was out.

It was only until after he returned to his lab that he realized Loki’s torture device had disappeared. He shoved his face into his hands and groaned.

**Author's Note:**

> малыш means what you think it does, hopefully: baby, "little man"; Antosha is a diminutive of Anthony.


End file.
